


ecstasy and fire

by chocofes



Category: Free!
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, haru is trans and also horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocofes/pseuds/chocofes
Summary: They’re on Kisumi’s bed, where they do this often when Hayato’s at school, or swimming practice— some kind of secret stress relief, as Kisumi puts it, and Haru sometimes wishes he could put a paper bag on Kisumi’s personality.





	ecstasy and fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is horny. Also I haven't written porn in a year.

It started recently.

 

Haru doesn’t like Kisumi, he never really has. He doesn’t know _how_ or _why_ things ended up this way, but it just… did. He doesn’t like him— he really doesn’t! But he’s a horny, touch-starved, sexually frustrated teenager, and he doesn’t know how— but it was a while ago, when a seemingly innocuous text conversation had turned very very dirty, very very quickly. That’s what had spawned this whole ‘relationship’, if Haru could even call it that. He doesn’t really know what to call it— he hates him, but also likes to suck his dick sometimes. Does that make them friends? Haru hopes it doesn’t.

 

Today, they’re at Kisumi’s house. The two are bare, save for underwear. They’re on Kisumi’s bed, where they do this often when Hayato’s at school, or swimming practice— some kind of secret _stress relief,_ as Kisumi puts it, and Haru sometimes wishes he could put a paper bag on Kisumi’s personality.

 

His pink hair tickles Haruka’s chin. It smells like bubblegum and strawberries, and Haru didn’t even know you could get hair that smelled so artificially sweet until he met Kisumi. In fact, there were a few things about his appearance that were unnatural— pink hair, purple eyes? He’s getting distracted, Haru realizes. There are better things to be doing now.

 

Haruka sits back, curling his fingers against Kisumi’s shoulder. The pink haired boy laughs, hot breath ghosting against Haru’s neck.

 

“Haru,” he says simply, and Haru wants to push him off. He becomes fully aware of Kisumi’s presence properly for the first time in the hour he’s been here, and he’s suddenly sick of it. He doesn’t push him off though, he just pulls him by the hair— closer to the crook of his neck, and he puffs out a throaty sigh as he feels his teeth dig into his bare skin.

 

Kisumi’s suddenly shaking against him, and Haru already knows the boy is laughing, and when he pulls away his eyes are crinkled at the corners with laughter, mischievous giggles pressing past his lips.

 

“Eager, are we Haru?”

 

Haru rolls his eyes, sitting himself up properly. He uses his arm to prop himself up, fingers carding through his fluffy, pink locks. Kisumi’s expression morphs, violet eyes darkening and cheeks flushing. Haru’s nose instinctively crinkles, some combination of _disgust_ and _lust_ swirling within him— and he pushes Kisumi down. He manoeuvers and settles himself between Kisumi’s legs. He’s quick when he takes the waistband of Kisumi’s underwear between his forefinger and thumb, and pulls them down. Kisumi’s half hard, Haru notes. He takes Kisumi’s dick in his hand, stroking once, twice, and he hears the boy let out a noise akin to a whine from the back of his throat.

 

“Eager, are we.” Haru echoes, deadpan and dull. Kisumi laughs for a moment, but it stutters off into a hitch of his breath.

 

Haru’s jerky hand movements develop into more fluid strokes, and Kisumi’s breathing grows ragged, the stimulation drawing a low moan out of the basketballer every once in a while.

 

“Haruuu…” he purrs, palms closing around bedsheets. “C’m- c’m _ooon,_ I don’t wanna wait forever f-for you… properly, I mean,” he sighs, tilting his head back. “That’s good though,” he adds, humming pleasurably.

 

Haru doesn’t respond, thumb pawing against the slit where a bead of precum had built up— smearing across the sensitive head of his cock, and Kisumi let a low groan crawl up from the back of his throat. Haru suppresses a dry laugh, finger running down his length. “Hm.” he hums noncommittally, and he lets his movements slow to a stop.

Kisumi lets out a pathetic mewl at that, shifting and tilting his head. “Haru,” he whines, pushing his pink hair out of his face. Only then is when Haru notices the dark flush situated on Kisumi’s cheeks, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

 

“Already so worked up,” he comments impassively, slipping his thumbs into his waistband and pulling his underwear down. Kisumi, uncharacteristically, stays silent. He feels light pink making its way onto his own cheeks now, chewing his bottom lip.

 

He could feel how wet he was before, but now that he was bare he felt an unusual sense of anticipation surge through him, the kind that he only experiences before diving into the water— strange for him to get it outside of the pool, but he doesn’t dwell on the feeling much past that, reaching across to fish a condom out of his drawer.

 

He places it next to him on the bed, but instead of handing it to Kisumi, he gestures to the boy for him to sit up. He does so pliantly, and Haru reaches for his wrist, breathing laboured. He leads Kisumi’s hand between his legs, curling up closer to the basketballer.

 

“Do it,” he mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of Kisumi’s neck— he felt a little bashful. “So— so it doesn’t hurt as much,” he clarifies, and he hears Kisumi laugh again.

 

“Okay, Haru.” he replies. Haru’s breath catches in his throat when he feels Kisumi’s hands pressing against his thighs gently, and Haru obediently spreads his legs, just a little. He  inhales sharply when he feels a calloused thumb circle against his clit and then press against the sensitive spot, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He shivers, pleased when the thumb moves in slow circles, but his eyes widen with a surprised gasp when a finger pushes into him. Kisumi pulls it out with a soft inhale, “too fast?” he asks, but Haru just shakes his head and urges him to put it back in. Kisumi does so, slower, and Haru brings his arms up to hang off the basketballer’s shoulders.

 

He stays relatively silent save for the soft gasps that escape him with each roll of Kisumi’s thumb, and he doesn’t suppress the groan he lets out when Kisumi slips in a second finger alongside the first.

 

“So wet, Haru _-chan_ ,” Kisumi playfully tacks the honorific on the end, and Haru chomps down on his neck with indignance— to which, the pink-haired boy cries out in faux-agony.

 

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses, fingers curling against Kisumi’s shoulders. He now fought the sudden and inexplicable urge to push Kisumi down and sit on his face— some kind of primal arousal budding in his lower abdomen, and he decides that this was enough.

 

“O-Out. Take them out,” he demands, and Kisumi complies quickly. He snatches the condom from where it had lain abandoned on the bed, and holds it in front of Kisumi.

 

Kisumi takes it from Haruka’s hand, and rolls it on. The two remain silent through this ordeal, and stay silent when Kisumi places his hands on Haru’s hips. Haru pushed Kisumi’s shoulders down so he was reclined back on the bed, and he slid a hand down Kisumi’s toned body as he ever so slowly lowered himself down onto Kisumi’s dick, inhaling sharply. Kisumi hummed lowly, tracing cirles into Haru’s side as the boy adjusted himself.

 

“You took it so well, Haru,”

 

“Shut the fuck up,”

 

Haru raises himself, dropping down— rather sloppily, until he falls into a neater rhythm and letting his hands lay on Kisumi’s abdomen. It takes a few moments before Haru starts making noises, pants developing into gasps and soft groans.

 

Kisumi thinks Haru looks rather cute; the swimmer has his head tilted back, face scrunched up and red. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are pressed together tightly when he’s not parting them to let out the occasional moan or sigh.

 

“Haru,” Kisumi breathes, letting his hips roll up, and Haru arches his back at that. A high-pitched, very un-Haru mewl escapes him, and Kisumi fights the urge to verbalize how adorable he finds him. Plus, he feels the swimmer clench around him, and he doesn’t think he can say a word without moaning instead.

 

Kisumi’s hands trail up, over Haruka’s nipples, and his thumbs brush over now mostly-faded scars. Haru shifts, and moves just a little faster— haphazardly, rolling his hips against Kisumi’s cock. Kisumi purrs out a pleased moan, pinching Haruka’s left nipple between his forefinger and thumb playfully. Haru hissed, cheeks heating up.

 

“Fffu— Kisumi...” he groans, and Kisumi thinks it’s the first thing Haru has said since he got inside him. He holds back a playful laugh, letting his hand fall to press a thumb against Haru’s clit— and to that, Haru keens. Kisumi sees his already flushed cheeks flare up, dropping his head forward and letting his dark bangs fall over his face. _That won’t do,_ Kisumi thinks, and he rubs his clit in slow circles, similarly to how he had done before. Haruka gets louder. He’s still trying to restrain himself, but he feels himself faltering, getting noisier with each movement of his hips. His clit is sensitive, and Kisumi’s touch feels _damn good,_ but he doesn’t want to be loud, he doesn’t _like_ being loud— but it gets harder when Kisumi starts to roll his hips up in time with Haru, and then he decides there’s no point. Haru throws his head back with a loud whine, mouth hanging open. Kisumi grins, pleased with himself and he increases the pressure of his thumb against Haru’s clit.

 

“Ohh, _Kisumi,_ ” he breathes, letting his head loll to the side. “Feels good,” he swallows, “I m-might, _ah,_ soon....”

 

Kisumi huffs out with a dry laugh, but swears lowly under his breath. “Quick, huh,” and Haru shoots him a glare before he can add quiet a “me too, though,”.

 

Haru’s movements grow quicker, more erratic, and his legs are becoming sore. Kisumi pushes himself up, and Haru quickly moves to lean against him, pressing his forehead against the crook of Kisumi’s neck as he rides him near-frantically. “A— aah,” he breathed in through his nose, holding onto the pink haired boy for dear life.

 

Kisumi took ahold of Haru’s hips again, eyelids drooping. The swimmer did not slow, movements growing frenzied and desperate. Haru grits his teeth, and he feels a familiar warmth bloom in his lower abdomen, aching— and he bites back a near sob as he feels orgasm wash over him, sweet and inviting. A tingle runs up his spine, and he cries out a wanton _“Kisumi!”_ , his movements becoming jerky and unnatural as he shook, thighs trembling either side of him. Kisumi whispers hushed praise in Haru’s ear as the boy cums, and he pulls himself off Kisumi, reclining back where he fell off— and that was Kisumi’s cue. He hurriedly pulls the condom off, sitting up so he was above the spent athlete, and he strokes himself quickly, clenching his teeth. It isn’t long until he’s cumming too, over Haru’s stomach and abdomen, and the faux-disgusted expression on the swimmer’s face doesn’t mask the underlying lust in his eyes at the gesture.

 

Kisumi falls back on the bed with a delighted sigh, but Haru’s grumbling, and pulling tissues from the box on his nightstand to dab up the mess on his abdomen.

 

“What was the point of the condoms if you were gonna do that?” he asks blankly, balling the tissues up and tossing them at the wire trash can in the corner of the room. They miss.

 

Kisumi shrugs. “In case of an accident?”

 

“What kind of _accident?_ ”

 

Kisumi shrugs again, but grins sillily. “In case you’re _way too sexy_ , and make me cum within 3 touches, or something!”

 

Haru’s face screws up with contempt, and he turns away, pulling his underwear back on. “I thought about Makoto when I came,” he taunts, though deadpan.

 

Kisumi whines out a “Haruuu!” but the swimmer doesn’t respond, opting to redress himself instead. There’s not another exchange, and Haruka is out the door before Kisumi even registers it.

 

Kisumi sighs, and lies back on the bed, but he decides it’ll be okay. Haru will be back later, whether it be tomorrow or next week. He always comes back.

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
